Carissa's Wierd

They'll Only Miss You When You Leave: Songs 1996-2003

(Hardly Art)

Record Review by Adam McKibbin

If I’d had the misfortune of never being introduced to Carissa’s Wierd during their too-brief time on earth, I’m pretty sure that They’ll Only Miss You When You Leave would be the album I’d listen to more than any others in 2010.  But, happily, we go way back.  Way back in 2001, I wrote in a now-deceased LA alt-weekly that I’d fallen far behind with my CD listening because I couldn’t stop listening to a new album from an obscure band with a name that made me mad because I worried that readers would think I’d made a typo.  The album was You Should Be At Home Here; eight years later, I was still raving about it, and included it in my Best of the Decade list (at #4).

At the time, their music was released by a super-friendly guy named Ben Bridwell, who would later join the band as their drummer, and later still would headline arenas as the lead singer of Band of Horses.  At the time, their fanbase beyond their native Seattle was small enough that when I met Bridwell in person for the first time, having recently written the aforementioned positive things about them, he knew me as “the guy from L.A.”  He tried to give me a free T-shirt.  I insisted on paying, and I’m glad I did – though if he makes the same offer next time I see Band of Horses, I might take the handout.

But while Bridwell has become the most famous of Carissa alums by a substantial margin, he was hardly its signature member.  Mat Brooke and Jenn Ghetto are one of the great duos in the annals of indie music, a king and queen of struggle and melancholy.  Back in the day, I said their dirges made Low sound like the B-52s by comparison.  I still think that’s true to some extent – I like Low a lot, but don’t think they match Carissa’s Wierd in terms of emotional dysfunction and devastation.  But Brooke has shown in his current gig as leader of Grand Archives that he also likes to let the sunshine in from time to time; there’s a line in “The Color That Your Eyes Changed with the Color of Your Hair” that I think is one of the most perfectly (bitter)sweet lines I’ve ever heard.  I’m not going to give it away any more than that, as it’s worth the hunt, especially since the band is giving away the track. 

Ghetto provided the fragile edge to Brooke’s wounded calm.  She didn’t take the solo lead all that often; I always wanted to hear a little more, but listening to sparse songs like “So You Wanna Be A Superhero,” it seems like limited doses may have been necessary for the spirits of songwriter and audience alike.  “Superhero” is unconditionally one of the saddest and most depressing songs I’ve ever heard.  It’s also one of my favorites, and it makes an unapologetic, perfectly placed appearance right smack in the middle of the compilation.  Take that for a pick-me-up.

While Brooke has adamantly insisted that the band’s recent one-off reunion would, indeed, be a one-off, it’s encouraging that he and Ghetto have repeatedly been touring together again – this time as separate entities, Brooke with Grand Archives and Ghetto with S (although she joins him for harmonies on a few GA songs).  The magic captured on They’ll Only Miss You When You Leave may in fact belong to another time, and everyone’s new gig is well worth attention (including the solo career of Sera Cahoone, another former drummer) – but hopefully it won’t close the door on continued future collaboration.